In the eye of the Storm
by Sarafinah
Summary: Harry has no direction and no idea what his life should be after defeating Voldemort. He lives each day wandering streets and getting drunk - Until he looks up and straight into pewter grey eyes; eyes the colour of a storm, and suddenly, his whole life comes into focus.
1. Chapter 1 - Look up

Harry wandered aimlessly down Privet Drive. He liked to come here to think, a habit that had formed over the previous months. The Dursleys' didn't live here anymore, having sold the house once they were made leave the final time before the War and moved to somewhere in Devon. Harry didn't know their new address nor had he any wish to visit them in person.

It had been 5 months since the War and since he had disarmed Voldemort and brought some sort of peace to the Wizarding World. It still felt like every Witch and Wizard was in some form of celebration and Harry had, as a result, been the hot topic of conversation since that day. Not a week went by when the Daily profit didn't run a story entitled "What's next for the Boy who Lived…" or some variation on this.

The truth was, Harry didn't know what next. His whole lifetime spent in the Wizarding world was defined by Voldemort, by fighting for the Light, gearing up to that final battle. Without that anchor, Harry didn't know who he was or what he was meant to do. His friends had all moved on to other things – Hermione went back to Hogwarts to complete her 6th Year, Ron was accepted into Auror training with no application needed. Ginny had left to travel the world and was currently in Texas somewhere, the last harry had heard. He and Ginny and tried to make it work after the War but it became fairly obvious early on that they had nothing in common and both wanted very different things.

Harry didn't wish to return to Hogwarts and he had enough fighting bad wizards to last a lifetime, so ruled out Auror training much to the disappointment of nearly everyone he knew. He couldn't attempt to go anywhere in wizarding Britain without being recognised and badgered and prodded so in a fit to escape, he apparated to the one place that he could think of that people wouldn't look for him: Privet Drive.

In a similar fashion to the summers of past, Harry wandered the streets of Little Whinging aimlessly, over hot from the summer sun and without any direction to his days at all. At night he returned under the cover of darkness and his Invisibility Cloak to the steps of Grimmauld Place, where a constant stream of reporters waited outside the steps to try and catch a glimpse of Harry Potter, Saviour to the World.

Harry hated it.

Sometimes, when Harry felt the need to get black out drunk, he visited a Muggle pub in North London. The Barkeeper knew him well enough by now to not try talk to him and to keep the drinks flowing. Harry always overpaid in Muggle money with a very generous tip at the end of the night and this bought him the right to be left very much alone and get very much drunk.

Harry looked at his watch: 8.03pm. His stomach rumbled and he tried to recall the last time he ate. Deciding he should probably get something to eat before getting wasted for the night, Harry Apparated to Grimmauld Place to find Doris, his House Elf to rustle up something edible.

"DORIS" Harry shouted while hanging up his Cloak and simultaneously prying off his boots.

With a loud CRACK, Doris appeared.

"Yes Master Harry?"

"Any chance of some dinner Doris?"

"Yes Master Harry, Doris is making dinner right away".

Harry thanked her and wandered upstairs for a shower and to change. Harry didn't pay much attention to his appearance or what he wore, generally just picking something that was vaguely clean and not too creased. He learned fairly early on that the best option was to buy clothes in dark colours and as a rule, they all generally matched enough without any thought or concern on Harrys' part.

Harry showered quickly, threw on a pair of faded black jeans and a tight fitting dark jumper and meandered downstairs for some of Doris' cooking.

Harry had inherited this house from Sirius along with the screaming portrait of Mrs Black and Kreacher the House Elf. Kreacher sacrificed himself in the final Battle and Harry had to admit he missed his sarcastic mutterings. Harry hadn't sought out a new Elf nor did he really want one, but the day he turned the key in the lock with the intention of moving in here, he was greeted by Doris, who announced herself as the Elf to the Noble House of Black and Master Harry with no room for argument.

Harry always got the impression that Doris was rather amused by him and she treated him like you would a toddler. She placed a plate filled with steak pie, mash potato and green peas in front of him, a small smile hitching the corners of her mouth. Harry began to open his mouth and before a sound came out, a large tumbler of whiskey joined the plate. Harry thanked Doris and quickly started eating.

Years of starvation at the hands of the Dursleys had Harry eating with a speed not many could match, maybe only Ron. He didn't think any amount of time or assurance that he had food and had access to food would ever cure this habit.

He did, however, take a bit of time to savour the whiskey as he drank it down. Enjoying the burning sensation in the back of his throat and the subsequent heat in his stomach. Since the War, Harry hadn't spent any money on himself, save for food, the odd bit of clothing as he wore threw jumpers and boots and really good whiskey. He found he could live without most things if he had to but good whiskey was a luxury he wasn't willing to give up.

Draining the glass, Harry stood up and shuffled back into his boots. Heading out to the back garden, Harry Apparated to the dark alleyway behind the Goat's head, the Muggle Pub he liked. The barmaid greeted Harry with a small nod and went about fixing his drink of Whiskey and a small glass of water. He took up on his usual stool and another night, similar to many previous nights, stretched out before him.

The Bar Maid, as she always had done, kept the drinks flowing and his water topped up and didn't attempt to try start a conversation, knowing from previous attempts this was completely futile and Harry didn't enjoy the intrusion.

Harry heard the door open, felt a brush of wind across his face but kept his eyes firmly on the glass in front of him not wanting to draw attention and not caring who had arrived. Harry felt something tug at him, urging him to raise his gaze up to the stranger and tried to fight it. He heard a small sigh and something made his eyes snap up to meet a pair of eyes the colour of a storm.

"Fuck".


	2. Chapter 2 - A breath of air

Harry's mind was spinning. He recognised the eyes and the man behind the eyes. He knew that he should be feeling something other than the calmness that had just come over him. It was the first time in months that he could remember his mind ceasing its constant churning and turbulent thoughts.

Calm.

It took roughly 10 seconds for his mouth to catch up with his mind and words to form on his tongue.

'Malfoy what are you doing here?'

Not a great start, Harry admitted but it could have been a lot worse he reckoned.

Draco continued his quiet assessment of the situation, maintaining a cool exterior and his usual air of aloofness. He didn't respond to Harrys' comment, choosing instead to survey Harry one final time and stalk to the very back of the pub, choosing a dark alcove to dip into, just out of sight of Harry.

The Bar maid had paused her task of cleaning the bar top and was quietly surveying the dramatic change in both her regular customer and the atmosphere in the pub. She didn't know Harry's name but his demeanour had altered from one of quiet distress to one of complete and utter calmness when he locked eyes with this Malfoy person. His eyes looked alive for the first time and his hair seemed to prickle with static electricity or something. She wondered, like she did with all her customers, what their story was and how they came about to such extreme reactions to each other.

Harry's eyes dropped back down to his glass and he tried to put the last ten minutes out of his head. His thoughts stubbornly remained on Malfoy and started to wonder what he had been up to since the War and why he was in a Muggle Pub in north London. Harry had heard both Lucius and Narcissa had died by some sort of suicide pact, although Harry didn't know if this was true or just another story the Daily Profit had spun. He tried to wrack his brains on where Malfoy had gone after the War, but as Harry didn't read the paper and actively avoided gossip he had no clue what Malfoy was doing with his life.

Harry continued to drink himself into oblivion and his thoughts continued to remain in the dark alcove at the back. He silently pleaded for another glimpse of Malfoy, the calmness his eyes had brought already like a drug to Harry. He wondered if Malfoy would come out and engage with him but he thought it more likely that he would stalk by him and out the door with the grace and elegance he was born with and avoid any interaction at all.

Harry waited, not altogether patiently, for Malfoy to emerge. Closing time was fast approaching and Harry wished the clocks would hurry up and that the barmaid would flash the lights signalling the pub was shutting up shop for the day. The minutes ticked by and eventually the lights flashed. Harry slowly downed the rest of his whiskey, placed the tumbler on the counter and slid off his stool, a bit unsteady on his feet. He tried to draw out the process of fishing out the notes and coins needed to pay for the alcohol, all the while his mind firmly on the alcove in the back of the pub.

Having paid for his drinks and buttoned up his coat very slowly, with odd glances by the barmaid at his stretched pace, Harry had no option but to nod his goodbye and leave the pub. The cold biting wind cut into Harry's face and served to jolt him into alertness. He was torn as to his next move – walk away and go home, forgetting about Malfoy altogether; or hang around outside, wait for Malfoy to walk out and 'then what' his mind unhelpfully supplied.

Before Harry had any time to actually make up his mind, Malfoy emerged from the pub.

They both froze.

Harry locked eyes with Malfoy, losing any semblance of control he thought he had.

Malfoy stood unnaturally still barely even seeming to breathe.

Every fibre of Harry's body was trying to propel him forward, straight into Malfoys' personal space. It almost physically hurt him to hold his own body back.

'Potter, fancy seeing you here'. Malfoy all but purred, a small smirk hitching the corners of his mouth.

'Likewise, Malfoy'. Harry could hear the tremble in his voice and instinctively knew Malfoy could hear it too. Dammit.

The two men surveyed each other, both unsure of what came next. It was the first time that Harry could recall ever seeing Malfoy hesitate.

The seconds ticked by, with no movement from either side until eventually Malfoy nodded swiftly and took off at an alarming pace. He caught Harry by surprise so much that by the time Harry thought to follow him, Malfoy was long gone.

Left with no other option, Harry meandered slowly to the dark alleyway to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, his mind racing with thoughts of stormy eyes.

Harry jumped awake the next morning. His dreams had been filled with storms, dark grey clouds that seemed to move out of focus and swirl threateningly around him. His first waking thoughts were of Malfoy and he knew, without even trying to question it, that he would be going back to the pub this evening in the hope to catch another glimpse of the Malfoy patriarch.

Harry lounged in bed, another day with nothing to do but pound the pavements in Surrey on his daily agenda. His thoughts easily strayed to Malfoy – not that they had moved far from him to begin with. His brain easily created scenarios of how their brief interaction last night may have played out, had Harry found the courage to start a conversation. Without the intention, Harry could feel heat pooling in his lower stomach and could feel the familiar pull of his senses. Groaning at not only the sensation, but the cause of this development, Harry's hand found himself under the covers. Almost trying to close his minds eye as to the direction of these thoughts, Harry swiftly moved his hand up and down in an effort to quickly deal with himself and move on with his day.

With a soft moan, Harry finished and hurredly showered; as if he could wash away the unwelcome images his mind seemed intent on providing. Downstairs, Harry found that Doris had left some steaming porridge and hot coffee for him on the long dining table, his lonely table setting looking even more forlorn in the harsh morning light. Wolfing down the food, burning his throat in the process, Harry surveyed the room he was in.

He hadn't thought to change much when he moved in, other than to finish the clear out of Dark Arts memrobilia that Molly had started several years ago. The place was still full of shadows and seemed eerie. The kitchen, master bedroom and bathroom the only rooms ever used resulted in the rest of the house having a distinct air of neglect and a hefty coating of dust, despite Doris' efforts.

Feeling unusually full of energy and purpose, Harry tore open the double doors to the forgotten sitting room, coughing slightly at the dust that wormed its way into his nose. Harry took in the old fashioned furniture, the large mahogany cabinets and the dust laden curtains and one thing became abundantly clear. He needed help.

'DORIS'

With a loud crack, Doris appeared.

'You called, Master Harry?'

'I did, Doris. Would you mind helping me clear out this room?'

'Certainly Master, I thought you would never ask!' Doris chimed in.

Harry started by Vanishing the furniture knowing he wouldn't want to keep anything so old fashioned. As a team, Harry and Doris began tackling the walls, the curtains and the floor. Within a couple of hours, the room was clear of furniture and dust and their footsteps were echoing off the floor.

Over the course of the rest of the day, Harry and Doris moved on to tackle the dining room, the drawing room and the room that Harry didn't have a name for, so they decided to christen it the Study. They wisely chose to leave the hall way alone for now, with the angry portraits of past Black family members and the severed House Elf heads.

Slick with sweat, grime and residual dust from the days activities, Harry and Doris sank into the kitchen chairs with steaming mugs of tea in front of them. They were exhausted but satisfied. They had worked in companionable silence for the day and didn't try to force any conversation now. Once the tea was gone, Doris announced she would have dinner shortly, and Harry excused himself for another shower.

The anticipation was started to bubble in the pit of his stomach now that it was nearing time to go. Harry couldn't pretend to himself that he wasn't going with the sole purpose to see Malfoy again. He didn't know why, nor did he want to examine his feelings or thoughts too much. He just knew that this was the first time since before the War that he felt any urge to do anything, even if it was to go see Malfoy.

A tiny part of his brain knew that there was a large chance that Malfoy wouldn't come back to the pub again, that he would avoid it at all costs considering his reaction the night before. Harry tried to push this to the back of his mind while he pulled on another black jumper, shrugged into his coat and walked out the door.

When Harry was set with his tumbler of whiskey and iced water, he allowed his mind to focus solely on the door. Wishing it to open, Harry realised, doesn't actually make anything happen. With a heavy sigh, Harry looked back to his almost drained glass and all but gave up on the idea of seeing Malfoy again.

As the bar maid placed another large drink in front of him, the door swished open. Bringing with it a cool breeze and those intriguing eyes.

'I didn't want to come here' Draco announced and let the door close behind him, cutting off the breeze and cutting off all coherent thought to Harry's brain.


	3. Chapter 3 - Whiskey and Rye

Harry's breath caught in his throat. His eyes locked into Malfoys and no amount of urging by his brain could get them to move elsewhere. The odd calm feeling was back and as bizarre as the whole situation was, Harry knew that he would do nearly anything to keep this feeling in his life.

Both men seemed to be on the precipice, waiting for the other to make some sort of move, almost predatory; the only thing missing was them circling around each other like animals in the wild.

In the end it was the bar maid who broke the static tension:

" Would you like a drink, sir" she addressed Malfoy.

Malfoy blinked twice and finally shifted his gaze away from Harry, glancing over to the woman and nodding slowly.

"Please. Whiskey. Large. And water"

The barmaid went about fixing his drinks and Malfoy eyes, almost seeming to do so against his will, landed back on Harry. Feeling rather bold, Harry tipped his head to the seat beside him at the bar, indicating to Malfoy to take a seat.

Malfoy, surprisingly, did just that.

As Malfoy took his seat, Harry turned back to face the bar and the barmaid placed fresh drinks for them both in front of them.

In unison, they both took large swigs of the burning whiskey, the silence tense and electric between them.

Harrys' mind was reeling and being pulled in so many directions. He wanted desperately to start some sort of conversation but didn't know how or what to say.

"I can hear your mind whirring, Potter, it's making me dizzy" Malfoy muttered.

"Sorry I – eh – sorry"

Harry wasn't surprised that Malfoy was the more at ease, it seemed he had been born with an innate grace that eluded nearly everyone else.

"I suppose I should thank you, for saving the world and all that Potter"

"Don't Malfoy. If I wanted to be applauded I would be drinking in the Leaky Cauldron with my legion of fans" Harry grimaced at how petulant his voice sounded and hoped Malfoy didn't think he was having a tantrum.

"Ah, it makes more sense now, you're here to hide"

"I am not here to hide Malfoy. And besides, why are you here"

Harry could feel his blood pressure rising, an all too familiar reaction to Malfoy. It almost provided some comfort to Harry that not everything has changed.

Malfoy sighed and shrugged.

"Same reason Potter, not hiding like you"

The tense silence was back, creating a gulf between them as both minds raced through thoughts of the other. The barmaid refilled their drinks, discreetly watching the pair and their stilted interaction.

The silence stretched on for some time, they both drank fast and Harry could feel the beginnings of the warm fuzzy sensation one got as you got drunk. A part of his brain warned it was not a good idea to get drunk in the presence of a Malfoy but luckily, Harry had stopped listening to that part of his brain several years ago.

Several more drinks and the conversation had yet to resume. Harry had taken to casting a glance at Malfoy every so often, forcing himself to count to 30 before trying to look again. He couldn't deny to himself, in the safety of his own mind, that the man was beautiful. His effeminate features were enhanced by the dimmed lights and dark colours of the pub. The little bit of light there was seemed to bounce off his white, almost transparent hair. He long and delicate fingers were gently wrapped around his glass. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away as Malfoy brought the glass to his lips to drink. He witnessed the dark liquid pour into Malfoys mouth and watched it move down his throat.

Malfoy placed the drink back on the counter and looked over to meet Harry's widened eyes. There was no denying the electricity between them. It took all of Harry's self-control not to jump on Malfoy there and then. It seemed to Harry like Malfoy was also struggling to contain himself, the slight shake to his fingers giving him away.

Harry thought back to his brief relationship with Ginny. He couldn't recall ever feeling like this with her, this urgent need and all-consuming desire sending heat to all parts of him, some parts more than others. When they had decided to end things, it was a mutual agreement that something was missing, something wasn't right. Neither of them could put their finger on what exactly was missing and they had managed to stay friends. Everyone around them, Hermione and Ron in particular couldn't understand why they broke up and often brought it up when they were together. Despite both Harry and Ginny resolutely confirming that they were never getting back together, it didn't stop the badgering from their mutual friends and family. He didn't blame Ginny for taking off the travel the world just to change the topic of conversation and get away from the incessant needling.

For a long time after they split, Harry didn't know what he wanted. He tried to pick up girls the odd time but always had that sensation that it wasn't quite right. He couldn't shake the feeling no matter how much he tried to.

Now however, he thinks he may have realised what has been missing.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the verbal volleyball that always ensued when they spoke to each other, Harry tried to start a normal conversation.

"So eh Malfoy, what have you been up to the last few months"

"Really Potter, that's what you're going with?"

"It's a logical question Malfoy, it's called conversation"

"Right Potter. I have been busy burying my parents, taking over the Malfoy estate, trying to scrub Voldemorts' residues out of my home. You know. Usual things". Malfoy uttered the words with an air of nonchalance that Harry suspected was more of a learned copy mechanism rather than how he really felt about his life.

"Your parents, it was true. I didn't know, I'm sorry"

"Well you can't actually save everyone Potter, that would be too ambitious, even for you."

Harry didn't know what to say now, his attempt at conversation crashed and burning in the dust somewhere. He wanted to tell Malfoy that he really was sorry, as much as he didn't like Lucius or Narcissa, no one should have to bury their parents so young.

Harry wished Malfoy would say something else to banish the ever present tension. His already limited self-control stretched beyond reason. Without intending to, he glanced over at Malfoy again only to find his steady gaze already on him. If he didn't know better and know the signs, he would think Malfoy was trying to use Legilimency to read his thoughts.

"I really am sorry for your parents Malfoy."

"Thanks Potter. While we are on this subject, can you stop calling me Malfoy. My father was Malfoy and I'd rather not be referred to as he was, bad memories and all that."

Harry turned his first name around in his head and decided it sounded too weird to say out loud.

"I have known you as Malfoy since I was 11, I don't think I can start calling you _Draco_ now.."

"You are going to have to _Harry._ "

More than a little freaked out about how personal that sounded Harry's mind unhelpfully supplied images of Malfoy shouting 'Harry' from his bed. Shaking the thoughts away, Harry decided that he could be a grown up and use his first name, if that's what he wanted.

Harry tested it out loud "Draco."

"Yes." Dracos' eyes seemed to light up upon hearing Harry say his name. Harry decided that the reaction was worth the unfamiliarity of the name and immediately wanted to say it again.

The barmaid chose this moment to put two fresh drinks in front of them with a small smirk. Harry distinctly got the impression she was laughing at him and his very obvious lack of finesse talking to Malfoy. To Draco.

Both Harry and Draco reached for their drinks simultaneously and unintentionally brushed their fingers together. The spark of electricity was almost audible between them. Their eyes locked as their fingers failed to move away from the others. The heat that Harry had been feeling from the combination of the whiskey and the presence of Draco surged to his lower stomach and he didn't think in that moment, he could deny what he wanted so badly.

Draco subconsciously twitched his fingers, the movement Harry felt up his entire arm. Harry wished he could pause time, live in this moment forever, relishing Draco's touch on his hand, his eyes locked into his own. The air stilled around them.

Draco cleared his throat self-consciously and moved his hand away, completing the action of picking up his drink. The void his fingers left on Harry's was almost painful.

The barmaid was transfixed by them and the very obvious chemistry between them. She checked her watch, realised they were over time and reached to the switch to flash the lights signalling home time. She watched as these two young men downed their drinks while maintaining eye contact. She watched how they slowly stood in unison, both reached into coat pockets and threw enough money on the counter to pay for their drinks twice over. They slowly looked away from each other, nodded their thanks and disappeared through the heavy door and into the dark night outside.


	4. Chapter 4 - Live and Let Die

Harry and Draco walked out of the pub and into the frigid night air. Harry pulled his collar up a bit more, the cold contrasting with the heat inside him, making him shiver. He turned to look again at Draco, this already becoming a sort of habit for him. His eyes only willing to be without Draco in their sights for a short period.

They resumed the stance from the previous night. Harrys' brain failing to offer up anything for him to say. Dracos' mouth was pressed into a hard line, the only evidence that he was having the same internal struggle as Harry.

Identical to the night before, Draco suddenly nodded and swept off in the direction of home. Harry stuttered momentarily and then his legs started working to carry him after Draco. He rounded the corner but Draco was gone, having Apparated seconds before.

Cursing himself for his lack of reaction and Draco for his haste, Harry had no choice but to go home. It was later than normal, given the barmaid had let the pub stay open a bit longer than was strictly allowed. Harry arrived home and went to the kitchen in search of whiskey and answers; only one of which he was certain to get.

Draco also found himself at home with no answers. He had Apparated in a bit of a panic. Not wanting to know what was going to happen next mixed with a healthy fear of the unknown causing him to flee the scene. He found himself standing in the cavernous Entrance Hall to Malfoy Manor, not knowing what to do and not recognising the feeling coursing through his body.

He wandered to his Study, figuring there was more Whiskey there and that was a good enough reason at the moment. Sitting in front of the roaring fire with a very large Whiskey in hand, Draco tried to assess his feelings after spending the entire evening in near silence on a bar stool beside Harry Potter.

When he had walked into the Muggle pub, he was looking for solitude away from the glaring eyes of Witches and Wizards, and he was more than a little shocked to find Harry bloody Potter propped up beside the bar, clearly several sheets to the wind with a fresh whiskey in front of him. As he practically fled to the darkened alcove, his mind was racing and turbulent thoughts swarmed his head.

After the War, Draco was lost. Voldemort was defeated in the war and with it brought down all of the Death Eaters, his Father with him, and his Mother by association. The Malfoys had retreated to the Manor after the Final Battle, not entirely knowing what to do. They knew that the authorities would be coming for them soon enough once the dust settled somewhat. As the three of them made their way into the front parlour, the weak sunlight brought with it the harsh reality of being on the losing side. Lucius excused himself and Narcissa and with nothing more to do, Draco went to bed.

He woke the next morning to an eerie silence, not altogether uncommon for a Manor this size but after the last few months 'activities' the silence was welcome. Draco rose and made his way to the parlour to see if there was breakfast, thinking that it was likely all the Malfoy House Elves had abandoned them. He was right, there was no breakfast and no House Elves. At a loose end, Draco steeled himself to go speak with his Father in his Study. Not a conversation he particularly wanted but he needed to know what the plan was, knowing he couldn't hide in the Manor indefinitely.

He found the study empty which caused a modicum of concern; Draco couldn't remember the last time his Father stayed in bed past 10am. Draco walked purposefully up to his parents quarters. Lucius and Narcissa had separate bedrooms for sleeping and another room that was for something else that Draco didn't like to think too much about. He tried Narcissas' room first, thinking it was the easier of the two. He knocked but there was no answer. Turning the handle, he slowly let himself in, apprehensive and tense.

The room was large and full of light from huge bay windows. The hardwood floor covered by an expansive rug to take the chill out of the room. The rug led to an ornate four poster bed with organza drapes. Dracos' eyes, almost against his will, found the bed and its occupants.

Narcissa and Lucius were lying hand in hand, fully clothed and dead.

The shock of the sight of his parents stilled Draco and he barely dared to breath lest he disturb them. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to investigate any further, Draco slowly and carefully backed out of the room and made his way back to his own living quarters.

Years of training at the hands of Lucius Malfoy meant that outwardly, nothing showed. His eyes remaining impassive, his hands were steady and his breathing was not laboured. He made it to his own room, closed the door behind him shutting the world out and his composure crumbled.

He fell to his knees, letting his head fall to his chest. He could feel the wave of nausea building in the pit of his stomach and retched violently into the waste basket near him. Draco curled onto the floor with unseeing eyes. He remained there until the room was laced in shadows and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Draco woke with a start upon hearing a loud chime; somebody was attempting to come through the Malfoy Manor Wards.

With fear lacing his every fibre, Draco raced down to the Entrance Hall to investigate, willing whoever it was to make it quick if they were here to kill him. The Wards advised him that there was a Ministry Official at the Front Gate. Resigned, Draco lifted the Wards to allow them enter the grounds and watched from the door while they made their way up the long drive.

'Good Evening, Mr Malfoy. My name is Ornace Fitzgerald and I am from the Ministry of Magic. Is now a good time?"

For what? Draco thought but figuring it would be better to not act like a petulant child at the outset, moved out of the way and gestured for Ornace Fitzgerald to enter the Entrance Hall.

With a tilt of his head, Mr. Fitzgerald stepped in and tried his best not to look around at the cavernous hall in wonder.

Draco gestured for Mr. Fitzgerald to follow him and walked swiftly to the Parlour. The room illuminated as they passed the threshold and Draco grimaced at the bright lights. He took a seat and waved a hand to invite his uninvited guest to do the same.

"My apologies, Mr. Fitzgerald, I can't offer any refreshments as it seems we have found our estate without an House Elves."

"No need to worry, Mr. Malfoy. I will get straight to it and allow you to go back to your evening in peace."

Draco had no idea what business this could be nor, he realised, did he care. Since finding his parents that morning, his mind had been void of any coherent thought and he was finding it very difficult to feign any polite interest in this matter.

"Mr. Malfoy, apologies again for the intrusion, but it has come to the Ministrys' attention that there are certain " _matters'_ which need to be addressed now that the er, the recent events have come to a conclusion"

It took Draco all of his famous composure not to roll his eyes at the stuttering man in front of him.

"I see. Please do elaborate on these matters, Mr. Fitzgerald as I find I am at a loss as to what you mean."

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. It has come to our attention that the Malfoy Estate, including Malfoy Manor and all other Malfoy owned properties and assets, have been transferred to your name from that of your father. Usually, this transfer of ownership is only the result of a death and not while the father, in this case, is alive. To this effect, I wondered if Mr. Malfoy Senior is in residence so we may ask him the nature of this transfer?"

Ah. It made sense now. Given that Draco had found the bodies and not thought to notify anyone of this, the Malfoy Estate would have seemingly transferred to Draco for no reason. Inwardly groaning at the entire situation, Draco adopted a sneer to cover the shake in his voice.

"Well Mr. Fitzgerald, it seems my Mother and Father both passed this morning, having found them on my Mothers bed, together in death."

Draco almost took perverse pleasure in watching the colour drain from Mr. Fitzgeralds' face. He watched the mans' pupils dilate, his hands start to shake and could almost see his brain whirring.

"Oh right, they are.. ah, I see. Right"

"Indeed, Mr. Fitzgerald. I will be making the necessary arrangements over the coming days and was intending on notifying the Ministry. It seems that I do not have to complete that particular item anymore."

Evidently not knowing what to do, Mr. Fitzgerald stood up, bid Draco adieu, mumbling he was sorry for the circumstances and practically sprinted out the door. Draco was happy to see the back of him.

Draco thought back to this day, sitting in front of the fire and remarked that not much had changed since. He had made the necessary arrangements for his parents funeral, paid for a discreet notice in the paper so as to avoid too much attention and held a very small private ceremony in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The only people in attendance at the ceremony were Draco and the Officiant.

Draco hadn't cried, hadn't made a speech; he simply endured the protocols, nodded once they were done and retired to his rooms. He had, as Mr. Fitzgerald outlined, inherited the entire Malfoy Estate, not that he knew what to do with them. The first thing he did do was install another House Elf, finding that being an orphan was one thing, but being a hungry orphan was another thing altogether. Seekey arrived soon after and Draco's standard of living improved greatly.

He very rarely ventured from the Manor, choosing instead to live a life of peace and solitude. The few times he had braved the Wizarding public he had been greeted with hushed voices, whispers behind his back and hard glares. He actively avoided any interaction.

That was until a last night. Draco had been growing more and more restless being cooped up in the Manor and craved something else. In a sudden burst of recklessness and energy, Draco Apparated to a deserted North London street, his eyes focusing on the only light which was streaming from a run-down pub across the road. The place was definitely Muggle and figuring this was the best place to stay anonymous, Draco hurried in from the cold, only the be greeted with the back of Harry Potters' head.

Draco drained his glass and tried to figure out what caused him to re-visit the same pub for the second night, knowing it was likely that Potter would be there. Realising he didn't actually want to know the answer to that, Draco put the tumbler down firmly and took himself to bed.

Once in bed, his thoughts immediately turned to Potter. To Harry. He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to turn off the images his brain seemed intent on providing to him. This proved futile and within seconds his body had responded. Moving around in the silk sheets, Draco tried to shake off the feeling and ignore his own desire. The feeling was uncomfortable and his hips were moving against his will. Finally giving in, Draco wrapped a hand around himself with a grimace.

"Bloody Harry Potter." Draco gasped as he finished.

 **A/N: Thanks to all of you who have read the first few chapters. My aim is to post a chapter a day until the story completes.**

 **I promise our two favourite men will say more than two words to each other soon – keep with them!**

 **And thanks for the reviews a messages so far – they are keeping me going! I have also been writing this while in work so.. you know.. don't tell my boss!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Minutes and Hours

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling more than a bit rough around the edges. With a grimace, he threw the covers back and stalked into the shower. With a vague attempt to wash the residue of the night before off along with the sensation his restless dreams had left him with, Harry scrubbed himself raw.

He went downstairs in search of sustenance and a glance at the calendar told him Ron and Hermione would be over to him for take-out and beer later. Not an evening he generally looked forward to at the best of times, he definitely had a sense of dread for this evening. Normally, these nights served as more of a check in for Hermione to ease her self-inflicted guilt at him being single/lonely/damaged etc.

They generally spent the first half of the night eating and drinking, making small talk before Hermione inevitably started questioning him on his plans, trying to set him up with her colleagues and tutting around him in obvious disapprovement. Ron, preferring to let his girlfriend at it in lieu of starting an argument, generally retreated to an armchair and downed as many drinks as he could. Harry didn't blame Ron, he was mostly just jealous that Ron got to drink in silence.

He loved Hermione and knew her fussing came from a place of love but he really wished she would just back off. He didn't have the answers she was looking for and didn't know how to keep evading the same difficult questions.

As Harry ate his oatmeal, he wondered how he could get out of this evenings plans in order to head back to the pub, most definitely _not_ to see Draco. He wondered if Malfoy would go again, wondered if he would be let down or relieved when Harry didn't show up. Wonder if he would feel stood up if Harry didn't go.

The rest of the day rolled by in a restless, crackling fashion. Dreading his friends coming over and distracted by thoughts of Draco and the dim pub, Harry couldn't focus or sit still. He felt like the clouds before the lightning struck; as if he needed to unleash something.

As evening rolled around, the feeling intensified and Harry almost jumped out of his skin when the Wards signalled Ron and Hermione had arrived.

He opened the door, stepping back to allow them entry and the trio hurried towards the kitchen, lest they wake the loud portrait of Mrs. Black.

"Alright mate?"

"Good, Ron and you?"

"Something is different." Hermione cut in to the pleasantries, her watchful eyes roaming first over Harry and then to the kitchen and her surroundings. Ron shrugged and began to unpack the hot take away, almost groaning with pleasure.

Harry watched Hermione with wary eyes knowing nothing could distract her when she had a scent of something.

"You cleaned up!" Hermione exclaimed with obvious surprise.

"Eh, yeah, I did. Well, we did. Me and Doris."

It didn't happen often, but Hermione was lost for words. Harry laughed at the rare scene and joined Ron in plating up their dinner.

"Why?"

Ron rolled his eyes "He cleaned up, does he need a reason 'Mione? You always badger me to do it!"

Hermione clearly choosing this wasn't a topic of conversation for this early in the evening, surveyed the cleared out space one more time and joined the boys to get her food and beer. The trio retreated to the sitting room and assumed their usual spots before tucking in. Hermione, seated on the floor, began telling them of the latest goings on of the halls of Hogwarts. Being an elective student and given that Hermione was an adult, McGonagall had given Hermione the use of a fireplace so she could Floo home at the weekends if she wished to do so. Not wanting to bring any extra attention to herself, Hermione chose to stay on the grounds for the most part, only using her fireplace a few times, mainly to come to these dinners with Ron and Harry. This was a tense topic between her and Ron; Ron thinking she should come back to see him every weekend.

As the boys tucked into their dinners, Hermione took the moments peace to survey the freshly cleared out room. The cobwebs were swept away, most of the furniture gone, save for the low coffee table, the sofa and the chair that Ron was lounging in. The windows had been scrubbed and there was a lovely glow of evening sunshine filtering its way through the large bay window. Hermione had to admit it was a beautiful room, now that all the darkness was removed. She wondered what spurred Harry to clear it out. He had seemed perfectly content to live amongst the shadows and spiders, no matter how much Hermione nagged him to let her clean up.

Hermiones' eyes rested on Harry. There was something different about him too. His eyes seemed to be alive again, there was a sort of restless energy to him, an energy which had been snuffed out after the War and never seemed to return. He was idly tapping his foot and kept glancing at the door as if he wanted to bolt through it. Hermione hated not knowing something and started running through some scenarios in her head to question him on.

"Have you heard from Ginny recently, Harry?"

"No Hermione, last I heard she was in Texas somewhere. We don't write each other much so Ron likely knows more than me."

So nothing to do with Ginny then. Hermione wracked her brain to see who or what else could be causing Harry to be so different.

They finished their dinner and deposited their empty plates in the kitchen, picking up another beer on the way back to the sitting room. Hermione caught Harry glancing at the clock again.

"Hot date planned for tonight or something, Harry?"

Hermione watched as the blush that always gave Harry away, crept from beneath his collar and up the back of his neck. Alarmed and intrigued; Hermione listened carefully to Harry stuttering a response.

"No no no, nothing planned at all tonight, no thanks."

Bingo.

Hermione let it rest for now, knowing that if she started grilling Harry he would clam up and nothing she asked would get him to open up. She mentioned Quidditch and the upcoming Hogwarts match between Slytherin and Gryffindor and soon the boys were immersed in discussing tactics and maneouvres and paid no attention to Hermione's quiet thinking.

Harrys' mind, on the other hand, was anything but quiet. He tried his best to look interested in his friends but the minutes were ticking by and his anxiety was growing with every passing moment. His thoughts were preoccupied with Draco arriving to the pub and realising that Harry stood him up. A ridiculous thought, Harry mused, as they hadn't agreed to meet there, in fact Draco might not even be there tonight. Something twisted in the pit of Harrys' stomach at the thoughts of Draco thinking that Harry just didn't bother to show up. He listened to Ron droning on about feints and drills and struggled to engage in the conversation.

He was torn between being a good friend and trying his best to enjoy the evening, or asking them to leave and running off to do what he really wanted to do. He glanced over at Hermione who seemed lost in her own world of thought and back to Ron, now on his 7th drink and starting to slur his words. The majority of these evenings ended with Ron getting too drunk and Hermione having to practically carry him out the door, apologising profusely to Harry. In an effort to speed up this process, Harry excused himself and fetched two large whiskeys for him and Ron.

Harry started talking mindlessly about Quidditch in an effort to keep Ron quiet so he could drink faster. The drink was gone in no time and Ron was no better for it. Ron stood up abruptly, swaying dangerously, his eyes unfocused. The sudden action woke Hermione out of her reverie and she heaved a deep sigh as she stood up to take Ron home.

Feeling only slightly bad for his actions, Harry waved them out the door with a smile and hurried out to the back garden to Apparate to the pub.

With a crack, he arrived in the dark alley, silent except for a distant siren and Harry's thumping heart. Unable to deny that he was here for Draco, Harry strode to the door of the pub before his brain caught up with his actions.

Pulling the door open, Harry stepped into the warm pub, the dimmed lights casting shadows across the floor. The two stools from the previous night empty, one with a half empty whiskey in front of it.

Harrys' eyes lifted to meet the barmaid, who had an odd expression on her face.

"You missed him by about 10 minutes.. he left a bit angry.. sorry." The barmaid grimaced through the sentence, not wanting to deliver the bad message to her regular customer.

"Right, thanks."

Harry stood frozen on the spot not knowing what to do. He hated that Draco had left thinking Harry hadn't bothered to show up. Hated that he was angry at him. Harry supposed he could wait until the following night to see if Draco showed up again, but knowing how stubborn he was, it was likely he would never show up again.

He asked the barmaid for a shot of whiskey, downed it in one and resolved to find Draco tonight. Digging into his pocket to throw down some cash, the bar maid waved him off and wished him good luck.

Running back to the alleyway he had just left, Harry pictured a set of ornate gates from memory and Apparated with a loud crack.

Harry opened his eyes and Malfoy Manor loomed before him, behind the large gates. Before he had a chance to assess his whereabouts or to change his mind, the Wards chimed alerting the occupants of his arrival. With nothing to do now but wait for Draco to let him in, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets self-consciously, leaning against the gate for some support.

 **A/N -Sorry for the delay in posting this! I'm blaming the rare sunshine we currently have in Ireland!**

 **Thanks to everyone again for the reviews and faves and follows - You people are the best people!**

 **Not entirely sure where this story will go but grateful to you people who are finding out with me!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Unwanted Company

Draco had spent the day brooding around the large empty Manor. He was absolutely not thinking about Potter, not even in the slightest. He could feel his mind smirk at him every time he silently reassured himself that Potter wasn't the star of his thoughts. Full of restless energy, Draco woke early in the morning and elected to go for a swim to try and burn off some of the unwelcome energy the old fashioned way, and not the way he really wanted to.

Following the swim and a simple breakfast, neither of which satisfied him, Draco attempted to do some work. This mostly involved him wandering about his Study and staring out the window. His thoughts kept traitorously returning to the shadowy pub, the uncomfortable stools and his almost silent companion.

He wondered how long Harry had been hiding there, what the rest of his day looked like. Where were the rest of the golden trio to keep him company, and Ginny – he had heard they were together.

He didn't want to think about the way his stomach flipped over when Harry met his eyes, how his fingers started to tremble and his mouth went dry. He didn't want to know what Harry wanted to do or say outside the pub last night before Draco bolted. And he most definitely did not want to know if Harry felt the same way.

Over the years of Hogwarts, Draco had experimented with both the girls and the boys in his class. They all did, it was fairly common practice in Pureblood circles. Most of them were already on a Promise to someone else in the Pureblood communities, so they all knew that the time they had in Hogwarts was for fun, experiments and no strings attached. Pansy had hung off his arm since he was 13, both sets of parents having arranged for them to get married when they turned 18. Draco realised very early on that he preferred the company of men – a very closely guarded secret. After a string of dalliances with Theo, Blaise and a number of other boys in their year, Draco resigned himself to the truth of a sham marriage.

The War, a terrible occurrence in all ways but seemingly one. It rid his world of a linear passage into the marriage to Pansy what with everyone being a bit preoccupied with staying alive. It also served to rid his world of his parents, and with it the arranged marriage. Pansy had visited him shortly after the funeral and made noises about honouring their wishes and marrying anyway. Apparently the House of Malfoy still stood for something other than disgraced Death Eaters. Draco was more gentle that he felt Pansy deserved in his rejection.

Draco ate the dinner Seekey, his House Elf, had prepared without tasting anything. His mind was raging an internal battle with one part trying to convince him to stay home tonight and the other, more convincing side, willing him to follow his heart and return.

Cursing himself and his lack of control, Draco showered and got ready to go out, wearing all black as was his norm. 'If Lucius could see me now' was his final thought before purposefully striding outside the Front Gates to Apparate to North London. He stalked down the dark alley way, his over wrought energy leaving him feeling like a cat being rubbed the wrong way.

Upon entering the pub and taking up his 'usual' seat, a large crystal glass of whiskey was set in front of him. Tipping his head up in silent thanks to the watchful barmaid, Draco began the process of waiting for Harry Potter. Something he never thought he would have to do.

The minutes ticked by, one drink turning into several. The measures getting bigger each time as though the barmaid wished to alleviate some of his desperation by affording him more alcohol. The stool beside him remained resolutely void of Harry.

Dracos' mind which was racing at full speed all day, was now uncharacteristically void of any thoughts, a blank page just waiting to be filled.

As the clock chimed 11pm, Draco realised Harry was not going to come. He had stood Draco up. The rational part of his brain reminded him they hadn't agreed to meet there and Harry might just have plans or be busy saving the world again.

Draco rose with a sigh and felt the bitterness sink back into his bones. It had been missing for a day but returned with full force. He thanked the barmaid, manners were drilled into him from an early age and no amount of misery or melancholy would make him forget. Re-tracing his footsteps to the dark alleyway, he Apparated into the Void, nowhere else to go but home.

Once inside the ornate Gate, Draco waved off the carriage and opted to walk back up the Drive way. He needed to sort out his thoughts after tonights' embarrassment. As Draco marched back to his solitude, he tried to drive all thoughts of Harry Potter firmly out of his head. People left, people died. Draco vowed not to have to rely on anyone anymore and was doing a great job of managing his affairs while being cut off socially from the entire world, thank you very much.

As he reached the flag stones leading to the vast front door, the wards charmed alerting him someone was at the gate. Casting a quick tempus charm, Draco wondered who would be calling at almost midnight. Turning around the Wards assessed the individual for any threat or intended harm.

All clear.

Harry Potter was here to see him.

…

 **A/N – Two chapters in one day to make up for the missing days over the weekend!**

 **Thank you all the lovely readers out there who have chosen to read my words – they really are making one Irish girl very very happy!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Midnight Memories

Harry could feel his hands trembling in his pockets. Outwardly, he tried to feign an air of nonchalance to rival even Draco, but knew he was failing miserably. The Wards had chimed and Harry knew that if Draco was home, he knew Harry was there, giving Harry no option to flee the scene.

He waited, barely breathing , as a dark figure came in to focus walking down the Drive.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry instantly regretted arriving here with no plan in place, not having rehearsed what he wanted to say. His mind raced searching for something that was intelligent and not just stuttering. "I, eh, I just wanted to come by and tell you that I was eh, sorry I missed you earlier. In the pub. I was late and eh, you were gone."

Draco surveyed him closely without saying a word in response. He took one step back, making Harrys' heart sink further into the ground from the rejection. However, with a soft click, the large Gate shuddered and started to move back. Harrys' brain slowly comprehended what was happening and he willed his legs into movement. Slipping through the slight gap the Gate had already opened up, Harry walked to Draco and silently they both turned and walked back up the long drive to the Manor.

Draco led them to his study and poured them both a decent helping of Whiskey. Once they were seated in the dark green leather armchairs in front of the fire, an awkward expectant silence washed over the two men.

"I really am sorry, you know, about earlier." Harry broke the silence first, his palms sweating at how intimate a setting they were in.

"No problem, Potter, it's not like we had _arranged_ to meet there." Harry could feel the sneer from Draco at this, as if he felt dirty just by saying it.

The silence resumed once again. Harry felt like his brain was full of cotton wool or treacle, that normal thoughts were having a severe difficulty in wading through. He searched for something intelligent to say but nothing was coming to mind at all. He tried to sneak a glance at Malfoy only to meet his pewter grey eyes with his own bright green ones. The second their eyes met, Harry could feel a spark of something sizzle down his spine. The spark soared through his blood and pooled in his stomach, a fierce heat that shocked Harry.

Draco could feel a similar heat. While Draco had been taught to show no outward reaction to almost anything, inside his emotions and sesnations ran free. The heat from the intense eye contact caught Draco off guard and his breathing rate intensified. He wanted to much to reach out and touch Harry, to run a thumb along his cheek bone, to feel his skin on his own. The internal reaction shocked Draco, causing him to pull back and break the eye contact.

Clearing his throat, Draco rose and reached out a hand to Harry. Harry, alarmed, looked up to Draco in panic, not knowing what the taller man intended.

"A refill, Potter, give me your glass."

Harry handed it over, his heart rate returning to normal somewhat.

"You know, if you are going to insist I call you Draco, you could at least call me Harry."

Harry could feel the buzz from the alcohol kicking in, making him a bit more reckless in the process. The intensity of the heat in his stomach from being near Draco was making him squirm in his seat, longing to dispel some of the restless energy that was building up. In a fit of courage, Harry stood up and walked over to the large window.

Looking out on the darkened grounds of Malfoy Manor, Draco joined him, handing over the refilled glass.

"Harry it is then." Draco murmured, tipping his glass toward Harry and taking a large drink of the amber liquid.

Draco was standing too close to him. He could feel the heat alongside his body. Involuntarily, Harrys' hand twitched and brushed off the back of Dracos'. It was such a small movement, Harry wondered if Draco even noticed. That was until Dracos' hand moved in return, as a result, their hands were gently pressed together. Neither man looked down or looked at each other, both staring unseeing eyes out to the darkness.

Time seemed to stand still and neither Harry nor Draco could remember what had happened before this moment. They both seemed to hold their breath, on the precipice as they were, both daring the other to make some sort of move forward.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed for the hour, making both men jump, the isolated sound reverberating off the walls. Harry sloshed some of his drink onto his other hand.

Draco took both drinks and placed them onto the low table, picking up a napkin in the process. He took Harrys' wet hand into his own, and gently dried the alcohol off it.

Harry watched mesmerized as Draco cleaned him up, figuring this was the single most caring thing Draco had ever done toward him. His breath hitched when Draco glanced from his hand up to his eyes, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Their faces were closer than was polite, Harry could reach him with the smallest of movements, his eyes frantically searching for permission in Dracos' pale features.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco almost whispered the jibe, Harry could feel his breath on his face.

With a sharp intake at the all too familiar words, Harry closed the distance and brought a hand up to Dracos' face. His warm hand met with the cool skin and all Harry could feel was heat. Heat coursing through his body causing his hand to tremble, heat pooling in his stomach and heat in the back of his throat.

Closing the distance further, Draco leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Harrys'.

Draco could feel Harrys' lips, softer than he would have imagined, hesitate for a fraction of a second before catching on and kissing him back. Their hands, already entwined, moved to wrap around their waist and pull their bodies impossibly closer.

The air around them, already heavy with the scents of the fire, the whiskey and the longing, grew even heavier with something else, something primal.

The early tentative kisses made way for harder, rougher, firmer, more passionate and assured kisses, both now knowing the other wanted it just as much as the other.

With a brief pause, Draco pulled back to allow Harry to struggle out of his thin jumper, revealing a pale, scarred chest. Draco quickly followed suit and his impossibly pale skin almost seemed to suck the little light in the room to it. The firelight flickered and highlighted the still visible scar that Harry himself had put there.

Harry, tracing the line of the scar with a sadness tinting the corner of his eyes, followed the line right up to Dracos' collarbone and placed a soft kiss where it ended, a soft apology for times gone.

Pulling Harrys' mouth back to his with a gruffness and urgency that made Harry smile, Draco pushed Harry back up against the cool window pulling at his worn jeans, making his intentions clear.

Complying with the silent request, Harry allowed Draco to unbutton his jeans and push them to the floor. As Dracos' hand found Harry, Harry paused. In a rush of sensation, Harrys' brain pleased with him to slow down while his body very obviously wanted proceedings to speed up.

Draco noticed the pause, saw the tinge of panic in Harrys' eyes and took a step back, still panting and red faced.

Harry bent down to pull up his jeans, an apology on his lips.

"I'm sorry, it was a lot"

"I take it this, I, am your first – your first male that is."

Harry reddened in obvious answer and Draco picked up his drink with a sigh. He wasn't annoyed as such, it was just frustration that fizzed around his edges. He was alarmed at how much he wanted this, wanted Harry.

"I'm sorry Draco"

And with that, Harry fled the room and was out the front doors before Dracos' brain made him sprint after him in a desperate hope to catch him before he left.

With a faint pop, Draco knew he was too late and despondently returned to the castle to clean up the remnants of their odd, stilted and urgent night.

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay – I struggled a lot with this chapter! Hope my foray into a slightly more grown up scene reads ok!**

 **Enjoy and review – reviews are better than small kittens!**


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